


Changes

by SupremeMeme



Category: South Park
Genre: Bullying, Complete, Depression, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Mutual Masturbation, Sad with a Happy Ending, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremeMeme/pseuds/SupremeMeme
Summary: "Look at me, please, Eric. Say something, anything, please."Cartman considered giving in to the temptation of trying to convince Kyle that he was okay, that this was some kind of sick joke and that Kyle was a dumbass for crying and for falling for it.But it wasn't a joke. Kyle wasn't a dumbass. So Cartman said nothing.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski & Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski & Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Comments: 14
Kudos: 206





	1. paralyzed

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a vent, something that's going to be like two or three chapters long and will be heavily edited after it's finished. Hopefully the characters aren't too ooc or anything and I hope you guys enjoy :) <3
> 
> The songs included are:  
> "Paralyzed" by NF  
> "Fall Theme" by The Drinkwater Brothers

_"When did I become so numb?_

_When did I lose myself?_

_All the words that leave my tongue_

_Feel like they came from someone else_

_I'm paralyzed"_

Wind, sharp and icy, cut across the bare skin of his face, ruffling the untrimmed chestnut bangs that fell into his eyes. His cheeks and nose, normally pale, were dusted crimson from the unforgivingly low temperature of the late autumn night. Tangible warm breath escaped his chapped lips, curling into the air before disappearing from sight. 

_"Where are my feelings?_

_I no longer_ _feel things_

_I know I should_

_I'm paralyzed_

_Where is the real me?_

_I'm lost and it kills me inside_

_I'm paralyzed"_

He tilted his head back to gaze up at the sky, letting the reflection of the bright moon shimmer in his pools of golden-brown. His eyes; they used to shine, be so full of mirth, mischief, and life. But now they were empty, devoid of all qualities but sadness. Emptiness. It might have been cold outside, but it was nothing compared to how he felt inside. 

_"When did I become so cold?_

_When did I become ashamed?_

_Oh, where's the person that I know?_

_They must have left_

_They must have left_

_With all my faith"_

With the life of his mother claimed by disease, he didn't really have any place to go. He was eighteen, struggling to keep himself afloat in this society, in this life. His mother was gone; he was now truly alone. And it wasn't like anyone cared. His friends surely didn't. After all, who could love a bigoted fatass? 

_"I'm paralyzed_

_I'm scared to live but I'm scared to die_

_And if life is pain then I buried mine a long time ago_

_But it's still alive_

_And it's taking over me, where am I?_

_I wanna feel something, I'm numb inside_

_But I don't feel nothing, I wonder why"_

The words burned his ears as he looked back down over the side of the bridge, stepping closer. His gloved hands closed tightly around the snow-topped metal of the railing and he watched as the river roared below, barely heard over the power of the music in his earbuds. It was flooded from the snow that had melted during the day, churning and devouring the rocks and grass of the muddy, snow covered banks. The river wouldn't be slowing down anytime soon, in sync with the fast beating of his heart and the racing thoughts of his never-silent mind. 

_"I'm in the race of life and time passed by_

_Look, I sit back and I watch it_

_Hands in my pockets_

_Waves come crashing over me but I just watch 'em_

_I just watch 'em_

_I'm underwater but I feel like I'm on top of it_

_I'm at the bottom and I don't know what the problem is_

_I'm in a box_

_But I'm the one who locked me in_

_Suffocating and I'm running out of oxygen"_

He was tired of this. Tired of it all. Tired of being called names, tired of being ignored, tired of being the resident asshole. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried; therapy had tamed him, made him a calmer, more reserved person. Sure, he still called people names, made inappropriate comments and did a few questionable—albeit minor—things. But what teenager didn't? He felt like he had improved, grown a conscience, and discovered that he could feel empathy, too. He had feelings just like anyone else. 

But it was obvious that that didn't matter. His heart ached. 

_Just jump,_ he told himself, _quit being a fucking pussy._ It would be a cold, quick death: the current would pull him under. The waves would crash over him, suffocate him until he'd go unconscious. He would run out of oxygen in moments and pass on, leave this pathetic excuse of a life. Someone would find the note on his bed eventually. 

_"I'm paralyzed_

_Where are my feelings?_

_I no longer feel things_

_I know I should_

_I'm paralyzed_

_Where is the real me?_

_I'm lost and it kills me inside"_

_Do it, fatass._

_"I'm paralyzed, I'm just so paralyzed_

_Where are my feelings? Yeah, I'm just so paralyzed_

_I no longer feel things, I have no feelings_

_I know I should, oh how come I'm not moving why aren't I moving_

_I'm paralyzed_

_Where is the real me?_

_where is the real me, where is the real me?_

_I'm lost and it kills me inside_

_I'm paralyzed, I'm paralyzed_

_I'm paralyzed_

_I'm paralyzed"_

He pulled the earbuds out of his ears as the notes faded into silence. The song was over and so was his useless stalling. There was no point of mulling everything over one last time when he would be dead in a few minutes and it wouldn't matter anymore. So he pulled his phone out of his pocket, bundling up the earbuds with it, before he dropped it on the ground beside him. With the sound of his phone clattering beside his feet, reality truly sunk in and he shivered from the sudden lack of noise. Silence was thick, though it was sliced thin by the sound of his death gurgling below. 

His phone began to vibrate beside him. It lit up brightly in the darkness of the night, but he ignored it. 

_They thought I wouldn't do it. They thought I wouldn't fucking do it. They thought it was just a scheme._ He let out a dry chuckle, hoping narcissistically that everyone would realize that without his grace at school, their lives were empty. _I fucking hate all of those guys._

Tears stung at the edge of his eyes and he swung a leg over the rail, followed by another. He lowered himself down so he was standing on the very edge of the other side, staring down at his fate. A few warm droplets fell from his eyes and he itched to wipe them away, but instead his hands gripped the bar behind him for dear life. Pathetic. Even as he was throwing himself away, he was pathetic. He had never had so many real tears escape before, had never shown any kind of real weakness to anyone but his mother and his therapist. This was absolutely maddening and he wanted it to stop. As much as he was relieved to feel things besides narcissism and anger, he was just as upset about it. Wouldn't it be better to feel nothing at all?

"Fuck," he swore under his breath, sweating from the effort of holding himself back against the railing behind him. He wanted to let go, to let himself fall and succumb to that sweet release of death. But he was paralyzed. So many thoughts screamed at him, battling between right and wrong, life or death. He needed something to send him over the edge, to make that decision and get it over with. 

_If only someone could give me a push. Like Clyde Frog. He always helped me out,_ he thought with weak amusement. _Or maybe even Polly Prissy Pants._ But they were safe in his closet, covered in dust. _Or_ _—_

"Cartman?"

_Or him._

If he wasn't really paralyzed before, he was now. His whole body went stricken and he didn't turn around. He hadn't heard the approach of the car, too consumed in his thoughts and the sound of the hungry river. 

_Of course it had to be Kyle. Of course he would fucking find me here. Great. Maybe he'll give me the push I need and get this shit over with. He'd love that, wouldn't he?_

"I'm busy here, _Kahl_ ," Cartman spat, eyes narrowed to slits as he lowered his head, willing the tears to stop. It was a miracle his voice hasn't cracked yet. "Weren't you and the hippie supposed to be hanging out tonight? Making out in his bedroom?" He snickered, the sound empty. "I heard you two talking in the hallway today."

The sound of footsteps echoed too loudly in his ears as Kyle ran over, his voice hoarse. It sounded like he might’ve been crying. "You forgot to give me back my textbook before last period today. I kind of wanted to study later tonight so, I don't know, I wanted it back, so I took a detour before going to Stan's. And I—" he paused, inhaling shakily, "—I found a note."

Cartman's arms shook, growing tired and sore. "So?"

 _"So?"_ Kyle snapped, then tried to control himself. "So? So I came looking for you, dumbass!"

"Well you shouldn't have. Go away."

_"No!"_

Cartman found himself wincing when a hand gripped his shoulder, fingertips digging into the fabric of his red winter coat. "No, Cartman," Kyle whispered. "Climb back over. Get away from the edge."

The brunet curled his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. The person he hated the most (did he?) had to be the one to find him. Kyle had to find him in the most horrendous, pathetic state, and he would rip on him until the end of time. Maybe it was even a ploy to get him to chicken out of it just so he could tell the guys all about it. "Then what? You laugh at me, call me fatass and bitch about how much of a pussy I am?" 

"No, that's not—"

"I'm not going to fall for that, you sneaky little Jew!" Cartman shouted, this time his voice cracking. The tears still kept coming, faster now as he tried to hold back weak cries. "I'm sick of your lies. I'm sick of everyone's lies! I'm fucking _done!_ This is — _life_ is bullcrap!"

He heard Kyle take another breath from behind him, sniffling. "Cartman. Look at me."

"No. Leave me be, goddammit!"

Kyle's grip tightened, moving to clutch Cartman's upper arm. His hand was shaking, too. "Look at me, _please,_ Eric. Say something, anything, please."

Dull brown met glimmering emerald, both sets damp with tears. Kyle's face was blotchy and red from the cold and from crying. He was horrified and the sight made Cartman's stomach do a sickening roll. They stared at each other for a few short seconds, Kyle's grip such a vice that Cartman finally caved. _Pussy. What a fucking pussy,_ his thoughts sneered at him as he wordlessly let his frenemy help him back over the railing, back to where there was no chance of falling to his death. He just grunted out loud in response to the voices, so exhausted. Cartman considered giving in to the temptation of trying to convince Kyle that he was okay, that this was some kind of sick joke and that Kyle was a dumbass for crying and for falling for it.

But it wasn't a joke. Kyle wasn't a dumbass. So Cartman said nothing. He kept his head lowered, eyes closed as he brought his stiff, gloved hands to his face to ball them against his eyes. _He called me Eric._

"I…" Kyle said, breaking the silence, though his voice faded off within moments. What was there to say, really? Never in his life had Cartman shown this much emotion in front of anyone. The bigger boy didn't go around telling everyone he wanted to die—he had grown since fourth grade. There weren't any more stupid rap songs about how everyone (presumably) didn't want Cartman to die. No, he didn't parade his feelings. Especially when they were so difficult to understand. So he didn't expect Kyle to be in anything but shock. It was surprising, after all, to find out that one of your friends was suicidal, and it was the one you would least expect. But Cartman wondered: did Kyle even care? The waterworks could be some kind of show, but for what reason? Kyle always hated Cartman, and Cartman always hated Kyle (not really, actually). It hurt his brain to try and think about, especially when all he felt was dread and some kind of thickness in his lungs. 

But Cartman didn't have to think about it anymore, because there were suddenly thin, strong arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him to the other's chest. He could feel Kyle's heart racing a million miles an hour, a lot like his own. He could feel Kyle's warmth, feel him trembling. 

"I don't want you to go." 

Cartman let his eyes flutter closed and he slowly and uncertainly hugged Kyle all the same, clutching him tightly. "You don't know what you're saying."

Kyle shook his head, burying it into the scarf that was wrapped around Cartman's neck. Kyle was a few inches shorter than Cartman, fitting against the thicker body like a missing puzzle piece. "I do," Kyle whispered, a breath in the chilly wind, "I do know what I'm saying. Because things wouldn't be the same without you."

"You'll miss my jokes?" Cartman said, trying to brush all of this off like it was nothing with an amused tone. "You'll miss my good looks. I'm super hot and totally awesome. And you'll probably miss not having me around to grace you with my amazing singing skills." But his voice finally cracked on those last few words, betraying more than he was letting on. 

"Maybe," Kyle replied lightly, voice cracking too. He pulled back and Cartman immediately missed how warm Kyle was, how comfortable it had been to nuzzle the side of that ugly green ushanka. It smelled utterly _Kyle._ "Maybe I'll miss the way you look at me. Maybe I'll miss the way you make me feel like I'm alive in all the worst ways possible."

Cartman looked down at Kyle, realizing the ginger was still gripping him by the waist. The ugly feelings of anxiety and dread and sadness and nausea and pain were fading and Cartman found that the urge to push Kyle away and jump, to do it once and for all, was fading too. Instead, he wanted to pull Kyle close again and never let him go. Because maybe this Jew was the only one in the world who cared. Perhaps he would really miss Cartman if he was gone and dead. 

"But I do know I couldn't go on without you, Eric."

Maybe Kyle loved him, too. 

Cartman gripped Kyle's jacket with quivering hands and pulled him close again, giving in to his desires. He leaned down, catching Kyle's warm lips with his, pressing against him with all the tenderness in the world. A fire of affection and hope spread in his heart when he felt Kyle's lips reciprocate with the same eagerness, and Cartman thought that he had actually jumped and just gone to Heaven, even if that wasn't where he belonged. But he'd take it. He'd take this moment over anything in the world, clutching the love of his life close as they kissed under the moon and the stars and the sky. 

"Kyle," Cartman murmured hoarsely, struggling to find his voice, to find any ounce of reality in this entire night. 

"Why?" Kyle's voice echoed his own, breath warm against Cartman's lips as they paused. "Why were you…?"

Cartman shook his head a little. Their noses brushed together with the movement. "I'm sick of it, Kyle. I'm sick and tired of this shit..." He opened his eyes and took in the details of Kyle's face; little freckles here and there, eyelashes long and doll-like, ginger curls falling from the safety of the ushanka onto his forehead. "It's just too much. I've _tried_ to change." Not only that, but his mother...his mother, she was...

"You _have_ changed," Kyle said a little quickly, "I've noticed. And I've...I've pushed passed the past. It's hard to forgive for some of the stuff you did, but I have."

"You have?"

"There's a difference between doing good for attention and doing good for other people. You might not do good in ways like going to homeless shelters or animal shelters for volunteer work. But you don't hurt other people now. You don't do things for your greed and satisfaction. You've changed, Eric, and I've been blind to see it." Kyle placed his hands on Cartman's puffy cheeks, cupping them in his cold hands. He hadn't been wearing gloves and Cartman suddenly felt inclined to place his gloved hands over the top of Kyle's bare ones, holding them against his face. He also realized that Kyle's long winded preaching was soothing his nerves right now. "Butters, he...he opened my eyes. And I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you for so long. Long enough that it's come to...to...to _this."_ As Kyle spoke, Cartman held back as much of the flood of feelings as he could, but some still leaked through. Kyle was really too much. 

"Shut up, Jew. You preach too much," Cartman mumbled, but he said it so softly that it was apparent Kyle got the hint: it was okay. The ginger mustered up a tiny smile and opened his mouth to speak again, but Cartman effectively shut him up with another kiss. He claimed Kyle's mouth with his, using the opening to slip his tongue into the opposite. Their tongues danced a lazy dance, hot and wet and oh so perfect, Cartman feeling every inch of Kyle's mouth with a growing hunger that had been kept dormant for years. 

"Kyle," Cartman breathed again, but this time it came out as a quiet moan, lost in the warmth Kyle provided. Kyle's fingers slid around to the back of Cartman's neck, toying with the hairs at his nape. He didn't reply with anything except a sigh, rubbing their fronts together for friction as a gust of wind sliced by. "Kyle. Seriously," Cartman tried again, pulling away dejectedly and shivering. 

"What?" Kyle asked, looking up at the other boy with a faint hint of annoyance in his emotional eyes. 

Cartman moved his hands to Kyle's waist, toying with the waistband there. "It's cold," he whined. 

Kyle rolled his eyes but he too must have decided it was cold; he moved a hand to intertwine their hands together. "Whatever," he huffed under his breath with a faint hint of a weak smirk as he pulled Cartman away from the bridge. As they walked away, the bigger boy made sure to swipe up his phone and headphones and stuff them into his pocket, despite them being cold and partially covered in snow. He hoped his headphones still worked, but he didn't have much faith in that. 

They walked over to Shelia Broflovski's old car in silence. It was comfortable and relieving, but more solemn than anything. Cartman's body and mind relaxed just a little more as he took in the quiet rumbling of the vehicle that had been abandoned in haste. He also noted that Kyle's tense and squared shoulders were relaxing too, his fingers twitching slightly against Cartman's glove. _This is going to be one shit-show of a car ride._ He just knew that there might be a lack of words now, but Kyle wasn't going to let up once he was safe and in a more sound state of mind. Kyle was always very preach-y. 

Their hands only parted as Kyle made his way over to the driver's side whilst Cartman got into the passenger's. It was warm and he sighed, leaning back in the seat and rubbing his frozen face. He brushed a finger over his lips that were still tingling from the kiss. The kiss. _He had kissed Kyle. After years of wanting, yearning, needing..._

"Cartman," Kyle said quietly as he focused on making a U-turn, setting course for South Park. 

"What?" he huffed in reply, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Cartman was not ready to endure whatever spiel Kyle was about to go on. 

But Kyle didn't say anything. He just looked ahead, wiping his eyes one last time before turning on the radio. Some song Cartman didn't know drifted out of the speakers and he closed his eyes, not prying Kyle any further. He wasn't in the mood. He was tired. 

_"Fall, falling for you, I know it's true_

_That maybe our paths didn't cross in June_

_But now that they do,_

_I'm falling for you"_

~*~

Some people are born without a heart and soul. 

Or at least, that's what he had thought for a good nine years. 

No, he wasn't thinking of the _gingers_ or even the literal _son of Satan._ He was referring to one person in particular. 

Eric Theodore Cartman. 

Kyle could never understand to see how one person could just be so _evil._ The fatass was always ripping on every race, religion, sexuality, gender that wasn't his. All he ever cared about was himself. It was always, always, _always_ just _about Cartman, Cartman, Eric Fucking Cartman._ Kyle could think of hundreds, _thousands_ of instances where Cartman was nothing but a despicable human being, not worth the time and effort. Especially when they were younger. 

Kyle hated Cartman, and Cartman hated Kyle. They were archenemies, rivals, and that was how it was supposed to be. 

So when did that change? 

  
  


_"Hey, Butters," Kyle greeted, glancing towards the bathroom door Butters skipped inside, whistling a soft tune that sounded something reminiscent of a Dolly Parton song._

_Butters grinned, politely turning to look at himself in the mirror while Kyle tucked himself away. "Hiya! How's your day been goin', Kyle?"_

_Kyle wasn't sure if he was in the mood to be chitchatting with the most flamboyant, chattery boy in school. He had just had three finals in a row and a horrible half hour at lunch, and he was just ready to go home. "Exhausting," he eventually replied flatly, moving over to the open sink beside Butters, proceeding to wash his hands. Christ, he was tired. And upset. He was surprised that his hands were shaking just slightly under the warm water that was caressing the dry skin of his fingers. He wished he had lotion._

_"Oh. Well t-that sucks." He was messing with his golden locks, using a few sparkling hair clips to keep some fraying strands of hair in place. When he was finished, he leaned against the counter and watched Kyle flick water off his hands and turn to the paper towel dispenser. "I saw what happened at lunch and, erm, I wanted to make sure you were okay."_

_Kyle paused briefly, brows knitting together. He and Butters weren't really close. The boy was a lover, that was for certain; caring about everyone and everything with that sweet, innocent façade he had. But after all the fights Kyle had had amongst his friends, why did Butters come to him now?_

_"Yeah. I'm fine. Not like Stan and I haven't had a falling out in the middle of the cafeteria before," Kyle muttered, raising his head after chucking the damp paper towel he had been holding into the trash can. "This shit's getting real old, but it's nothing new."_

_"I think he's silly. Gettin' mad at his best buddy just because you're thinking 'bout going to a college in San Francisco."_

_Kyle wrinkled his nose and said, "I can't remember the last time we've hung out without interruption. Without Wendy calling him, without him canceling our plans for her. It's been what, two years?" He balled his hands into fists. Two years since he'd really had fun with his best friend. It was hard to say they were even friends anymore. "It really pisses me off that when the four of us get together to do dumb shit, he always bails halfway through to suck faces with Wendy. He doesn't even spare us a glance. Stan doesn't have a right to complain about where I want to go after I graduate since he's never around anymore anyway." He didn't. Stan was out of his place._

_“I’ve been talking about going to the University of San Francisco for a while and you’d know this if you didn’t constantly bail on me!” Kyle had snapped at him an hour ago. “It’s a big city in Cali; a chance to get a fresh start. What’s not to like? They’ve got good programs at the university, too. I want to go there, Stan." He had good chances too, with being one of the top students of the senior class._

_Stan had scowled at him and replied, “Seriously? Don’t you remember how those Hybrids made everyone act? They’re all over that city. They’re all so...stuck up!”_

_“Things can change, dude. The times have changed_ — _I figured you of all people would want to see less pollution! Those cars_ are _good for the environment." He paused. "What makes you think you can have a say in this when you barely talk to me anymore anyway?"_

 _Stan had slammed his fist down, gaining the attention of the entire lunch table. Cartman and Kenny had glanced over with equal faces of displeasure at being interrupted in their own conversation. Tweek and Craig’s makeout session a few seats down had been broken with a yelp from Tweek, and even the girls from the table looked over as Stan had growled, “Then, fine, just...just go! Or better yet, you should’ve just stayed in San Francisco when you moved there all those years ago! You should’ve_ never _come back!”_

_Kyle’s chair had squeaked in protest as he flung it backward, standing abruptly and giving Stan a boiling, hurtful look. “Fuck you, Stan.” His voice had been so angry, so full of venom that it had seemed to break whatever was making Stan so pissy. Because by the time he stood up too, eyes wide and alarmed, blue filled with deep remorse, Kyle had already hightailed it to the cafeteria door._

_“Kyle, wait! I didn’t_ — _I didn’t mean it!”_

 _That was too far. Too far, because Kyle had almost died. If it weren’t for that guardian angel_ — _a mystery that still plagued him_ — _he wouldn’t be here._

_Kyle hadn’t looked back._

_Sure, he may have overreacted with his standing and shouting crudely at Stan at their lunch table. Just a little. Though not much at all; it was understandable, had to be, after how condescending Stan was being, how stupid this whole entire thing was. The asshole deserved it. But it didn’t mean Kyle didn’t and wouldn't miss him._

_Kyle missed a lot of things._

_"It ain't fair," Butters said in that soft, high-pitched voice of his, giving Kyle a small smile. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes._

_"No," was all Kyle said to that, closing his eyes and running a hand through his red curls beneath his battered green ushanka. He still kept it close, after all these years._

_"A lotta things around here aren't fair lately," Butters continued, looking back at himself in the mirror, studying himself as if his image would have the solutions to everyone's problems. To his own. Because Kyle suddenly noticed that the blonde looked incredibly troubled._

_"Is something up with you, Butters?"_

_"Not with me," the boy replied, shaking his head. He sounded almost sad._

_Kyle frowned, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Then who?" he asked after Butters didn't continue this time, letting the silence drag on. When he did speak, he made this already strange restroom encounter even more so._

_"Eric."_

_"Cartman?" Kyle said slowly, blinking as if trying to comprehend this. "What's going on." Not a question. More of a statement than anything._

_“W-Well,” Butters started, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, gazing down at the rusting school faucet, “he’s really...he’s not in a good place right now.”_

_“Isn’t he going to therapy?” Which was still a baffling thought to him. Kyle never thought that in a million years Cartman would agree to go to therapy. But after starting the treatment a little over a year ago, the fatass had toned down quite a bit. He was quieter, starting fights less. There was no doubt that he was still an asshole, endlessly overacting with aggressive tendencies, endlessly making fun of every race besides himself. But he never shoved or threw a punch, instead opting to flee the scene while hissing obscenities under his breath. There never did seem to be a bite to his racist, rude comments like there used to be._

_And there was just something different about the way Cartman spat “Jew” that made Kyle’s stomach twist into knots that didn't make him feel nauseated like it had originally. He always ignored that feeling, though, because it just pissed him off that he didn’t know what it meant. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know._

_But Cartman still hadn't changed all that much. Not overall. He hadn't apologized to anyone for all the things he did over the years, and that still made Cartman a horrible person in Kyle's eyes. They were rivals, archenemies, and he hated that asshole with all his heart._

_That's what he kept telling himself._

_"W-Well, yes, but therapy doesn't help with everything," Butters stammered, looking nervous. "'Specially when your mom's sick in the hospital."_

_"Cartman's mom is sick?" Kyle blanched. Liane Cartman wasn't the best person, wasn't the best mother, but she was kind all the same. Kyle knew that Cartman loved his mom. Or, had a deep attachment to her. He wasn't sure if the fatass was capable of love._

_Butters nodded solemnly. "She has...she's got chronic Hepatitis B, and they think she's got the start of liver cancer 'cause of it."_

_"She…" Kyle started, but his voice died on his tongue. "Shit. How's Cartman taking this?"_

_"Not good."_

_The ginger wasn't sure what to say. Butters didn't lie often and when he did, Kyle was usually able to tell that Cartman was tricking him into some elaborate scheme. But not this time, because Butters was almost on the verge of shaking. So it was serious; Cartman really wasn't in a good place right now. How bad was it?_

_"I-I wasn't really supposed to tell you that. I mean, that much of it. Oh geez, I hope Eric won't kick my ass. Don't tell him I t-told you, okay?"_

_"I won't, Butters. I promise."_

_Butters took a deep breath, raising his head to look at Kyle, having avoided his gaze for a while. "Okay. Thanks." He hesitated. "I came here t-to tell you something else, actually."_

_When he didn't speak again for a minute or so, Kyle cleared his throat, looking the other boy up and down anxiously. His anger from earlier had ebbed away, and he was surprised to find himself actually worried about Cartman. Kyle didn't think this day would ever come again, not after he had let Cartman cry on his shoulder only to find out they weren't real tears. "Well, what is it?"_

_"O-Oh," Butters breathed, "I'm_ really _not supposed to tell you this. I've kept it secret for, er, nine years? But...you remember when you were saved from San Francisco?"_

_"How could I forget?" Kyle said, slightly sarcastic. He felt on edge._

_"Eric was the one that saved you. You and your whole family. He trudged right to your place and dragged you fellas out of there. I helped pull him out of the city, 'course, but it was all his idea. He said it w-wouldn't be the same if you weren't around."_

_Kyle froze, eyes widening as he looked at Butters. He couldn't believe his ears, wasn't sure if he heard right. "Cartman...saved me and my whole family?" He choked on his words, finding it hard to process. It was unbelievable, surreal,_ impossible _that_ Cartman _had saved all of them himself. "No...no way."_

_"I wouldn't lie to you, Kyle. I've kept his secret for a real long time. He never wanted you to find out. I dunno why."_

_All those times the asshole had called Kyle's mother a_ "fat Jew," _called her a_ "bitch," _when he tried to destroy the entire Jewish race (which was more than once), when he ripped on Kyle for anything and everything… Butters words rang in his ears, loud, too loud. Cartman really cared that much, to go that far? To go into a city he had claimed he hated because it was full of "hippies" and everything he didn't like, just to save the Broflovskis? Did this mean Cartman_ did _have a heart? Cartman had saved him after that, too, but that was only to get Kyle to suck his balls. Right?_

_Kyle wasn't sure what to believe anymore. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he couldn't ever admit it was anything but hate._

_"Hey_ — _Kyle? Where are you going?" Butters called, reaching out. He only met empty air, though, because his friend was already rushing out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him._

Kyle kept replaying the fresh memory in his mind, his head in his hands. The sharp, chilly November air whipped at the bare skin of the back of his hands and ruffled the few strands of red curls that fell below the confines of his hat, but he didn't mind. It was almost a welcome distraction from his confusing mess of emotions in his heart. He also didn't understand for the life of him why he felt his stomach do flips when he thought of Eric Cartman. Why did he feel guilty, sad, and even curious regarding him? It didn't make any sense. 

Maybe things were a little different than they were before. Cartman being less of a brat, Cartman being tolerable, Cartman doing schoolwork, Cartman actually attending a few study groups that had been arranged; one at Token's at the end of last year before finals, one at Stan's, and even _Wendy's._ Kyle had kept a close eye on Cartman during the groups. Why would he go if there wasn't some kind of plan, some kind of deeper meaning behind it? Those had been unexplainable. Just like Kyle had never come to grasp why Cartman had paid for a few of their outings, like when they went to the movies or to a restaurant, or even why he had gone out of his way to buy _Kyle_ a new video game when he had broke one previously, saying, _"Just so your mom doesn't crush me with her fat ass for breaking your shit. Nothing more. Bring this up, like,_ ever _, and I'll kill you, Jewboy."_ Little things Kyle chalked up to Cartman being, well, _Cartman,_ and letting those things piss him off beyond belief just so he had a reason to snap at his rival. 

_Am I the real asshole here?_ a small voice in Kyle's head snickered, and he scowled to himself, sitting up and leaning back against the cold and stiff wood of the park bench. He flexed his fingers, hands having grown numb and shaking, and he cursed under his breath. _No, of course not._

"I didn't think Daywalkers stuck around so close to twilight," a voice suddenly sneered, pulling Kyle from his thoughts almost immediately. 

Glancing up, Kyle met the gaze of the person he least wanted to see today. He wasn't ready, not after hearing Cartman's secret from Butters earlier. Those deep, honey brown eyes did nothing but make him feel even more confused and upset. "I don't think that's how that works at all, lardass." It was odd that Cartman was here at this hour, at the park by himself. If he were in Cartman's shoes, he would be visiting his mom at the hospital every night. But then again, Cartman never really liked hospitals. 

Much to Kyle's disbelief—to his discomfort?— Cartman moved over and sat down right next to Kyle. It burned where their jean-clad thighs brushed together. "Whatever."

"Why are you here? Sitting with me? What do you want?" the ginger blurted before he could stop himself, or before he could make it sound like he was angry he was sitting right next to his childhood enemy. Instead it came out curious, almost hopeful, and Kyle wanted to bash his head into a wall when Cartman's smirk faltered, betraying a brief glimpse of something more behind the asshole he carried himself as. Something— _someone—vu_ lnerable.

"Goddamn, can't I just sit down and have a sweet chat with my best pal?" Cartman snickered in a light, sarcastic tone, leaning over to put his arm around Kyle's shoulders and squeeze him hard into the bigger boy's side, crushing him there for a few seconds. It knocked the breath out of Kyle's lungs and his eyes bugged. His mind was conflicted with the sudden temptation of staying there, close to his enemy, safe and warm. 

He shoved Cartman away instead, who was expecting that, and laughed in turn. "Seriously, Cartman. Answer me. I'm not really in the mood for this shit."

Cartman raised a brow. Kyle couldn't tell if he looked sincerely concerned or not behind that amused glimmer in his eyes as he asked, "Is it Stan that put the sand in your vagina?"

Kyle bristled for a moment, scooting a few inches away from Cartman, trying to ignore the bubbling in his stomach. _He_ _saw what happened. Of course he had to try and push my buttons about it._ Kyle didn't say anything immediately, contemplating whether to push the question further that Cartman was obviously avoiding, or spill what happened with his best friend. He ultimately chose the latter and sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Shut the fuck up. You saw what happened at the lunch table today, Cartman."

"Well, yeah. I think everyone in that room saw what happened," Cartman said with a toothy grin, crossing his arms as he stared ahead. The sun was starting to set, sending streaks of red and orange across the sky. "Stan's an asshole."

Kyle blinked, turning to look at the brunette in surprise. He stared, watching the golden light reflect off chocolate brown. Cartman's eyes were alive, swimming with emotion and color. The sunlight molded his face into something grown up, handsome. Eric Cartman had the face of someone who had taken maturity in stride; he was round and his cheeks were puffy, his bangs clipped and swooping to the side underneath his beanie, framing his face in an almost perfect way. The ginger had seen other guys that were hotter, more appealing to look at here in South Park than Cartman was. But with that egotistical, narcissistic personality and the softness beneath, Kyle had never been more attracted to someone. 

"Yeah," Kyle grit out, turning away, breaking that intimate moment. He found he really couldn't defend Stan, even if hearing Cartman say that about his 'bestfriend' was a little uncomfortable. "He is."

"He's always bailing on us for that hippie bitch," he drawled, leaning back against the bench, "and then when they break up, he always comes crawling back to us."

"Yeah," Kyle said again, but this time with a little more strength in his voice. "He's an asshole."

Cartman glanced at him again. "But so are you, _Kahl._ I don't see you doing anything to repair this shit. Fuck, you—"

"Since when do you give a shit?" Kyle interrupted with a hiss. He didn't really feel like arguing with Cartman right now, didn't want to hear whatever bullshit he was about to release from his mouth. Kyle had had a long day and just wanted to end it on some kind of positive note. But with the dumbass here beside him, Kyle was unlikely to get what he wanted. "Since when—"

"Whoa, hang on there, Jewboy. I gotta take this call. While I do, make sure you remove the stick up your ass, seriously," Cartman said with a sudden weak, worried smirk, fishing his phone out of his pocket. It was vibrating uncontrollably and Kyle didn't recognize the number on the screen. He closed his mouth impatiently, annoyed, as he watched Cartman put his phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

Kyle stayed utterly silent, crossing his own arms and looking away, watching as a few leaves from a tree across the basketball court fluttered lazily down to the ground. He couldn't hear whoever was on the other end, so he focused his attention elsewhere while Cartman grunted a few times in response. This was just so... _strange._ Kyle couldn't shake off the emotions he was feeling no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't ignore the warmth he felt radiating off the guy next to him, and he couldn't get rid of the urge to lean into it. He hated how much of an effect Cartman was really starting to have on him. It was too much, too strong, and Kyle needed to get rid of it. The fact that it didn't make any sense at all was getting on his nerves, also. This was the guy that had been completely _horrible_ all their childhood, stopped at nothing to piss Kyle off, and loved watching other people suffer. Of all people, why did Kyle feel this way towards _Eric Cartman?_ He had to get rid of it all somehow. 

But all hopes of doing that were dashed the second Cartman abruptly stood up, roaring, _"Fuck you!_ Liar! You're a _liar!"_ into the phone as loud and hateful as he possibly could. He hung up, expression cold, yet blazing with anger and disbelief at the same time. Kyle's breath caught and he was speechless at the sight of Cartman so _weak_. He looked like one touch would shatter him into a thousand pieces. 

"What? What the fuck happened, Cartman?" Kyle said, about to stand up, but stopped when he got the answer he didn't want to hear. 

"My mom's dead."

Claws of ice buried itself in his heart and Kyle's words caught in his throat once more. _Liane was dead?_ "W-What?"

"You heard me, Jewrat," Cartman whispered, shoving his phone into his pocket with shaking fingers. "I have to go."

"Wait—" Kyle gasped, standing up and reaching out for Cartman, ready to stop whatever the hell Cartman was about to go do, but the brunet retaliated by roughly shoving Kyle back down into the bench.

"Fuck off, Kyle."

His green eyes were wide, darkened by the fading sunlight as Cartman glared down at him, towering over him like a giant. The sight of those tears made Kyle feel even more sick and struck with unimaginable amounts of disbelief, dissipating the anger that had been mounting from Cartman's sudden violence in seconds. 

Then Cartman was gone, leaving no room to pursue. Kyle would've followed the guy to the ends of the Earth right then and there to make sure he would be okay if he didn't feel so heartbroken for him, so confused and broken by the events of the day. 

So Kyle sat there on the bench for the next couple of hours, alone, the darkness wrapping him in a blanket of sorrow and mourning. He sat there, under the moon and the stars and the sky, wondering just where things had gone wrong and where things had begun to change, for the better or for the worst.

Only when he felt the chill of the autumn night in his bones did he begin his trek home. 


	2. fall, falling for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last part I'll add to this for now, but there is a chance I might explore this idea later. I will also return and edit both parts of this in-depth, too. 
> 
> But either way, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!! Thanks for all the kudos and comments, they warm my heart <3333

Days passed by too slowly for Kyle's taste, each one filled with a growing nauseating feeling manifesting in his gut. A week had gone by since their interaction at the park, and Cartman was absent for most of it. Kyle felt so empty seeing the fatass' desk vacant, missed having him by his side to banter with and tease. And the more he thought about those confusing feelings that were arising for Cartman, the less and less he tried to deny it. Things had changed. When? Kyle wasn't sure when exactly, but he supposed it had just been building and building over time and the more he had tried to claim he hated Cartman, the less he actually did. Things...they had changed. And that was that. 

Kyle liked Eric Cartman. 

Kyle _liked_ Eric Cartman.

And he realized...maybe everyone _was_ born with a heart and soul. 

The ginger was quiet for the entirety of the week, mourning the loss of Liane Cartman as well. He didn't tell anyone, didn't try and correct rumors about Cartman. He stayed back and watched with a sad gaze, constantly wondering what Cartman was doing at every moment. Once even, after school, Kyle had attempted to visit Cartman to check on him, making up multiple excuses on the way over that he was just _"checking up on your fat ass to make sure you don't do anything stupid"_ kind of thing. And to give his condolences, of course, because while he might not have been close to Cartman's mother, he knew she was a sweet woman and (sometimes, although very rare) a good mother. 

But when he had arrived at the lime green house with it's fading color and missing shingles and knocked at the door, no one answered. There had been a light on in one of the rooms, but Cartman's room had been dark and there had been no sound, no sign of life beyond that. Kyle had tried multiple times, yelling, pounding on the door until his hand started to ache, but it had been to no avail. Nothing stirred. So he had retreated with a heavy heart and returned home, dreading the future. 

It wasn't until Monday of the following week that Eric Cartman returned, showing up at his locker in his usual attire, looking normal as ever. Except, when he turned around, Kyle saw the dark circles under those previously warm brown eyes that were now cloudy and cold. Kyle even wondered if he had lost some weight, too, as Cartman's cheeks looked less full and the paleness of his skin had become some kind of sickly, ghostly white. And then the Jew also wondered if he was imagining things as the other strolled by, smirking and saying, "Hey, _Kahl._ I heard you were on your period all week last week. There's tampons in the bathroom if you still need them." But that sad look in Cartman's eyes was unmistakable, leaving Kyle speechless and unable to find his words except for a quick, stuttered, "Shut the fuck up, Cartman."

The two barely talked at all through the first half of the day, Cartman opting to sit with Butters at lunch instead of their usual group, and Stan sitting with Wendy, as per usual. Kyle was stuck with Kenny, who was on his shitty phone most of the time, laughing to himself at whatever was on the screen. Kyle picked at his food and ate in silence, tempted to consult in Kenny about everything but ultimately decided against it, feeling like he would forever be trapped in his thoughts all alone.

The only time Cartman talked to him again was to ask Kyle for his science textbook. 

_Cartman flicked his wrist in some dramatic gesture to get Kyle's attention from his spot a couple desks down, leaning over the edge of his seat to close the empty space between them, as if it would get him anywhere in the vast distance. Luckily, the two who occupied the desks between Cartman and Kyle, Cylde and Craig, hadn't arrived to class yet. The brunet batted his eyelashes at the ginger in a method of persuasion, saying, "Oh, dearest_ Kahl _, I would be so honored if you could lend me your textbook for class today."_

How can he act like nothing's wrong? _Kyle thought to himself, staring at Cartman over the two desks with his heart in his throat. That look was one that he'd seen before, hundreds of times. Everytime, it pissed Kyle off to no end because it was proof that the piece of shit was just trying to act innocent and flirtatious to get his way. But this time, along with the faint anger that flared in his chest, he felt his heart beat a little faster, his gaze glued to that handsome face of Eric Cartman's. It was so infuriating but so, so thrilling at the same time._

_Kyle balled up his fists on his lap under the table. "Why, fatass? You forget yours at home?" He paused. "Since when do you care about class?"_

_"Actually, Daywalker, I may not give a crap about this school, but I do give a crap about graduating. So give me your textbook. A smartass like you can go without it one period, right?"_

_"Seriously?" Kyle was taken off guard, surprised by the offhanded compliment Cartman had given him. It was weird to be hearing the kid who had always taken to copying papers and cheating on tests actually trying to do things himself._

_"I'm seriously."_

_"Whatever. Just make sure you give it back to me, got it, lardass? Unlike you, I study like, every night. And tonight's no exception."_

"Kewl, sure," _Cartman said with a small grin, reaching over to accept the textbook as Kyle picked it up off his desk and leaned over to slide it across one of the other desks so Cartman could reach it._

_Kyle nodded to him, slowly leaning back in his desk as he watched Cartman start flipping through the pages, sifting through units as he searched for their current one. And then, Kyle opened his mouth again, quiet. "Hey, Cartman."_

_"Huh?"_

_He swallowed thickly. "Are you o_ — _" he started, meeting Cartman's questioning gaze with a nervous one, but he was cut off by Cylde and Craig both plopping themselves down in their respective seats, pulling out their books as the bell rang overhead. He clamped his mouth shut and turned away from Cartman quickly, facing the board ahead as the teacher called for the class to settle down._ Another time, _Kyle told himself. He was so worried. Always thinking about him. Always Cartman._

But he found it odd that he hadn't even thought about Stan hardly at all, especially compared to the norm. He was there, at the back of his mind, but his best friend had been so absent in his life recently that, despite mourning that loss too, Kyle felt too sick to try and fix it. The couple of times Stan approached him first that week didn't go well either, with more blame being snapped at the black-haired teen from the irritation that had built up over the days in the ginger's veins. Even Wendy tried to talk to Kyle too, but he had promptly told her to go away before she could get more than two words out. He ignored his phone too, not blocking Stan's number, but making sure he instead didn't open the messaging app. 

He was so stressed. 

Kyle had barely focused the whole period, cursing himself for missing some new material he realized he had zoned out for when the bell rang once more. He packed his things away and stood up, turning to try and stop Cartman and ask for his book back. But the teen in question was already moving out the door, disappearing into crowded hall.

"Of course," Kyle muttered to himself and shrugged on his bookbag, following everyone else out into the hall, too. He'd just get it from Cartman later. They had last period together, anyway. 

The exhausted ginger pushed and squeezed his way through the river of students, trying to make his way to his next class. He found himself momentarily mindless, losing himself in the sea of chatter and noise, friends nudging each other and joking around. It made his insides twist. He really missed Stan, and he couldn't deny it. Of course, Kyle was pissed, pissed beyond reason, but that anger had eventually dulled into a deep sadness of nostalgia and a loss of something deep over the course of the week. He missed the nights they shared together in each other's rooms, eating junk food and talking and playing video games and joking around. They were abandoned all for some girl. Kyle felt replaced, but not in the way that he was completely jealous of Stan's girlfriend. He missed their friendship. If they talked, _really talked_ , would Stan try to make room for him again?

_Stan. I have to talk to Stan._

And speaking of the devil, Kyle caught sight of the teen right then, leaning against a locker as he spoke to Wendy, a glitter in his blue eyes. It was a look of love, pure adoration and affection, that smile of his reserved for that perfect girl in front of him. A smile that Kyle had never seen directed towards him or anyone else besides Stan's girlfriend. But Kyle _had_ seen a smile like that before directed towards him on another face, though it was different: lips twisted into a faint smirk, or a toothy grin that meant trouble, but trouble for him only. A shine in chocolate brown eyes that only held obsession and want for Kyle and only Kyle, dark beneath the flirtatious flutter of long eyelashes. 

"Stan!" Kyle called out, making his way over. He tried not to flinch when Stan glanced over, surprise taking over his features. Wendy looked over too and her expression softened. She placed a kiss on Stan's cheek, muttered a farewell before she started off towards her next period. Kyle was grateful for her intelligence and her ability to read that he wanted to talk to her boyfriend. Kyle didn't want to talk about Wendy to Stan right in front of her, even if there was a chance she would take Kyle's side.

"Kyle? What's-what's up, man?" Stan said slowly, as casually as possible, but it still came out incredibly awkward. 

Kyle took a deep breath. "Don't do this with me, Stan. We need to talk."

"I know," he replied, a little more quietly now. He glanced down the hall in the direction Wendy had gone off in. "We _do_ need to talk. About a lot of things. I've been thinking."

"About?" Kyle urged, pursing his lips tightly. 

"Well," Stan said with a sigh, "Wendy, for one." He shook his head. "I miss you, dude."

Kyle relaxed a little bit. This was easier than he thought it would be. But then again, he knew Stan could always come around in the end. He was reliable and loyal, for the most part, and they had been friends forever. Kyle and Stan knew each other too well. "I miss you too. Let's talk after school?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah," he said, cracking the barest of smiles, "sure."

"Cool." Kyle felt millions of pounds lighter, some invisible weight being lifted from his shoulders. But it didn't last long. As he turned away from Stan, about to head to his own class before the bell rang in a few minutes, he caught sight of some commotion that was taking place down the hallway. His lips quirked downwards in the beginnings of a concerned frown and he made his way towards the circle that was forming around a group in the middle. Using his height to his advantage, Kyle approached and peered over the shoulders of his peers, eyes widening when he saw five students in a confrontation. Clyde, Token, Craig, and Tweek were standing in front of Cartman, whose face was red with anger. 

"It was seriously _you?"_ Token was hissing, balling his fists at his sides. "You racist piece of shit!"

 _What's going on?_ Kyle thought, frozen to the spot, watching on in worry. 

Cartman took a step forward, rising to his full height, standing tall; an intimidation tactic. "What's wrong with that? Aren't you two happy now?" He clapped his hands together and rested his head against them, flashing Token and his friends a sly smirk. Kyle could still clearly see the rage in his eyes even when he purred, "You two are so perfect for each other!"

"S-Still," Tweek cut in, his voice a nervous wreck despite wanting to stand up for his friend, "that's really wrong."

"Asshole," Craig said in monotone, gripping Tweek's hand gently. 

"Yeah, we're happy together," Token snapped now, "but don't you see how wrong that was of you, Cartman?"

"Whatever. What's in the past is in the past, Token." Cartman let his hands fall to his side and his expression became annoyed. He was trying his hardest to stay calm, keep control of himself. "Don't be a little bitch about it. You're happy now."

 _Things are being dug up from long ago,_ Kyle realized, wincing a little bit as he thought of what Butters had told him days ago, something that was also constantly on his mind. Most of them are probably bad, the things Cartman did. But Kyle couldn't help feel a little uneasy remembering that during the time Token and Nichole were getting together, Cartman was going around telling people they were gay for each other. _But of course Cartman was the one to push the two of them together somehow._

_But he's changed now, right?_

Nichole's voice rang out through the hall, calling out for Token at the same time the bell sounded overhead, but Token instead said something Kyle didn't catch, and all collection Cartman had of himself crumbled. 

" _Fine!"_ he snarled, taking yet another step forward towards Token's gang, forcing them to back up a little bit. "Fine, maybe I'll just fucking kill myself!"

"You know you wouldn't," Craig pointed out with little to no emotion in his voice, making Cartman curl his lips into a feral growl. 

_What the_ fuck _did Token say?_ Kyle thought with wide eyes as he looked onwards.

"Just you watch, goddammit! Watch and see, and it'll be everyone's fucking fault! You'll all regret fucking with me!" Cartman shouted, rounding on the rest of the onlookers. For a second, Kyle thought he saw Cartman's gaze lock onto his, but maybe it was just something else he was imagining because seconds later Cartman was gone, pushing and shoving people out of his way to escape the glares and stares being thrown in his direction. 

"Just _what the hell_ is going on here, _m'kay_?" another voice sounded, immediately making some students scatter at the prospect of getting in trouble. Mr. Mackey was approaching and fast, and Kyle knew this was also his cue to leave. So he did, ditching everyone and leaving Token and the rest of his group behind to be scolded and questioned by the high school counselor. 

_There was no way Cartman would really kill himself. No way. Over something like_ that?

~*~

_"Leaves fall from the trees for you and me_

_Floating around just like boats on the breeze_

_Sailing the seas for you and me_

_If you want to I'll go with you walking however far_

_Don't deserve this, I've found purpose under the sky of stars_

_Fall, falling for you, know this is new_

_Just like the leaves that are changing hue_

_I'm changing too, to I'm falling for you_

_If you want to I'll go with you walking however far_

_Don't deserve this, I've found purpose under the sky of stars_

_Fall, falling for you, I know it's true_

_That maybe our paths didn't cross in June_

_But now that they do,_

_I'm falling for you_

_I know that it's true, now that they do,_

_I'm falling_

_for you"_

The car ride was quiet. Both Kyle and Cartman sniffled occasionally to themselves, listening to the soft tunes of the radio until it just became background noise for Cartman. He leaned his temple against the cold glass of the window and watched trees and other plant life blur by outside in the light of the moon. Cartman wondered how differently things would be now. Would Kyle pity him? _Was that kiss a form of pity?_ His fingers itched where they lay in his lap and he dug the tips of them into his jeans. Things really sucked. They really, really, really sucked. 

It felt like an eternity before they arrived at Cartman's place, to his surprise. This was really the last place the brunet wanted to be right now and was about to voice that opinion when the teen next to him broke the silence first. 

"I told my mom I was going to spend most of my night at Stan's and wouldn't be back until later," he said, speaking quietly, uncertainly. 

"And what?" Cartman snorted, sitting up and looking over at him. "You expect me to invite you in?"

"Well, yeah." Kyle sounded sheepish behind the note of annoyance in his tone. The flash of disbelief and dying hope in those emerald eyes along with it made Cartman's heart skip a beat in his own disbelief. He was still partially convinced this was some fucked up dream of his. He had those quite often. 

"Well, lucky for you, my precious Jew; I was going to do more than just invite you in." Cartman licked his lips as he looked at him, taking pleasure in watching the way Kyle's face heat up almost instantly. It was a very good distraction from the voices whispering in his head. 

Instead of replying immediately, Kyle killed the engine and rolled his eyes. "We need to talk first, Cartman. You know I'm not just going to let all this shit go."

" _Anything_ for you if it means we get to the second thing on the to-do list afterwards."

"Just get out of the fucking car!"

"Okay okay, geez. I'm going."

Quickly, wanting to get the inevitable talk over with, Cartman slid out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to forget everything before the moment their lips connected. He wanted to lose himself in heat, even if that just meant holding Kyle close and basking in his warmth. He definitely did not want to spill any more of his guys to Kyle. 

Cartman mutely led the way up to his front door, trying to ignore how quiet everything felt. The murmur of voices, the panting, whining, moaning, grunting—it was all in the past. That was one thing the brunet was definitely grateful for. He didn't have to listen to those horrible noises his mother and her _clients_ made anymore. But what he did miss were the soft sounds of humming coming from the kitchen, the _ding_ from the oven that never failed to make his mouth water, the way Liane Cartman gently called, _"Poopsiekins!"_ Or even the way she would say, _"Good night, Eric. I love you."_ Now there was nothing but the low hum of the microwave every other night or the sound of music to fend off the silence. 

Cartman's hand shook as he reached out and turned the knob, not having bothered to lock it when he left. He hadn't planned on returning. He moved inside and started towards the stairs, making his way through the darkness and not bothering to check if Kyle was following, instead listening to the pitter-patter of Kyle's footsteps. Quiet, so quiet, Cartman could barely handle it as he walked into his room, taking deep breaths to keep himself grounded. Behind him, Kyle flicked on the light and illuminated Cartman's childhood room, worn and old, and surprisingly devoid of any trash. It was easy to keep your room clean when there was barely anything to throw away, barely any food to snack on. 

"Cartman," Kyle said, shutting the door behind him even though there was no one else in the house. Cartman could feel those green eyes on him as he sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor. "Did you...walk to the bridge? And why did you ignore my texts and calls?"

"Well, yeah, I walked. It's not like I've got a car to take, genius. And did you really think I gave a crap about my phone while I was standing there, wondering when the fuck I'd actually get the courage to _jump?"_ He was warily avoiding Kyle's piercing gaze, taking a deep breath that felt too shaky for his liking. "How'd you know it was _that_ bridge? I remember being vague in my note I left." He glanced towards the crumpled up paper that he noticed was on the ground in front of his desk, abandoned in what was presumably a hurry. 

The ginger rubbed the side of his face and sighed. Cartman wondered just what he was thinking, not knowing his words made Kyle's heart squeeze painfully in his ribcage. "You said it was where your ex-girlfriend committed social media suicide. You have one ex-girlfriend and everyone pretty much knows where she dumped her phone." Kyle hated this, that was obvious. Neither of them liked trying to mull through feelings. Especially when it was your life-long rival turned... _boyfriend?_ Cartman had absolutely no clue what they were. "Can we just...can you talk to me, please? Just tell me what's going on."

"You already know," came the quick reply, making Kyle wince with the sharpness of it, "you already know what the fuck is going on. My mom's dead. She's fucking gone, Kyle. I don't have a job, I can't afford shit, like a goddamn car. I can't do anything. I'll be kicked out of this garbage house, and..." Cartman looked away now, closing his eyes as he trailed off. He felt pathetic and embarrassed, probably loathing to admit that he was _poor_ and he had nothing anymore. He was so weak now, vulnerable, and it made his throat feel tight with the frustration of it. But Kyle was still here with that look of sorrow and sadness on his face as he moved over and sat down beside Cartman, taking one of those thicker hands in his and squeezing tightly as Cartman continued, "And I've got no one left that cares. That's what it feels like. Fuck everyone at school; I've always thought I was super cool and awesome and everyone liked me, even just a little bit, but I can see now that isn't true. I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do, goddammit!" Reality had really hit him hard recently. When he realized the world didn't revolve around him anymore, he had decided he would try and fix things with everyone. He would even try to make amends in some way. But that had seemed hopeless in the grand scheme of things, too big and too overwhelming, and now with the only person in his life who had really attempted to ground him gone, it was hard. 

Sure, Kyle had tried to change Cartman at times. Kyle would scold him, yell at him, try and show him things like _sympathy_ or even _empathy,_ or try to prove to him that people of different color and/or ethnicity of him were human, too. And he had. Kyle had pulled away the more dense, more stubborn parts of his brain and showed him the world in bright color. But even he knew, deep down, that the fighting that brought him to those conclusions were unhealthy. No matter the rush of adrenaline or pleasure or thrill that came with screaming at Kyle and being screamed at in reverse served as something like his mother, who was soft and gentle and showed him never-ending love. 

_Kyle...could he be like that, too?_

Because Cartman knew that he wanted to hold Kyle close and tell him in the most obnoxious way that he loved him. He wanted to shower Kyle with all of his attention and give him nothing short of obsessional love. He wanted things to change. But not completely—no where in the contract of dating would he give up teasing the hot-headed Jew, no way in hell would he give up seeing Kyle get all flustered when he called him out on something mundane and unimportant.

Cartman hoped that Kyle wanted to see a change like that, too. 

"I hate seeing you like this," Kyle whispered, pulling the other teen out of his thoughts. He watched as Kyle looked down at their intertwined hands and squeezed. "It sucks that things change like this so quickly. Just a few weeks ago, we were bickering at lunch over some stupid video game. Now look at us. I've realized some things and you...your life…" He shook his head, trying to form words that would provide comfort. "You have people that care, Cartman. Me, Kenny, Stan—fuck, even Butters. He was a mess when he told me your mom was sick."

"You knew?" Cartman said, gritting his teeth together. " _Goddammit_ , Butters."

"He told me a lot of things. Like how you saved me from the storm in San Francisco. And yeah, sure, you've done a lot of shitty things to me and other people, but...I _like_ you, Eric." Kyle smiled at him, a beautiful, rare sight, even if his eyes were glistening with tears again. "There's just so many things about you I hadn't realized that were... _good,_ and I can't really explain it but you do things to my insides that I just literally _can't_ explain. Things would be so boring if you weren't there to say shit to rile me up, uh... Like I said before, you make me alive. I've saved your life and you've saved mine, I…"

Cartman let out a breath, eyes crinkling with something gentle as he listened to the confession. He liked Kyle a whole lot. He loved Kyle. "Yeah, that was only because life would be real fucking lame without your Jew ass to rip on."

"And life would be really fucking lame without your fat ass to rip on," Kyle told him softly, watching as Cartman's face grew a light shade of red at his words. Kyle was unbelievable sometimes. He was usually very predictable and that was how Cartman was able to get Kyle to the point where he was so deliciously riled up that he could barely spit out remarks. But then there were times when Kyle _wasn't_ predictable, when he surprised Cartman with the smallest of actions or words. It kept him hooked, kept him knowing what Kyle would do next and kept him guessing at the same time. But never in his life did Eric Cartman think Kyle Broflovski would adore Eric as much as Eric did him.

"Hey, _Kahl,"_ Cartman murmured with a drawl, leaning towards the beautiful ginger next to him, "how about we cut this talking stuff short and get to the good part?" Because he just didn't think he could take any more of this soft, awkward mess of a pep talk right now. His heart was full, still faintly aching but it was full of something he hadn't felt in a very long time— _hope._ He had hope that maybe, maybe, he _could_ eventually figure out what to do about everything. There was a chance that lots of things could be mended. 

Kyle gave him an unamused look that said, _"I'm definitely not dropping this,"_ but the way he was also slowly leaning in said otherwise. Before Kyle could change his mind—which Cartman knew was already teetering on the edge—he swooped in and pressed their lips together again. And to Cartman's relief, Kyle reciprocated, wrapping his arms around the thicker, softer body, pulling their chests together. Cartman's hands found themselves in that curly red hair he secretly loved so much, gripping eagerly as the kiss became more fervent and hungry, hot and heavy. A battle for dominance that neither wanted to give up; both teens pushed and groaned against each other, tongues meshing and molding together hotly. To Kyle's dismay, he found himself being pushed back onto the mattress below them by strong, soft hands that had moved up underneath Kyle's shirt and were working wonders on his hardened nipples. 

"Kyle," Cartman breathed out when they parted briefly for air, "you're so fucking sexy."

"Shut up," Kyle mumbled in response, his voice already rough with arousal, the sound definitely sending pools of heat into Cartman's already buzzing abdomen. 

"Make me," came the brunet's sultry reply, knowing full well that Kyle would rise to the challenge. And he did, hauling Cartman into another delicious French kiss, sending shivers down his spine. Every kiss, every touch, sent Cartman's veins on fire. He soon grew too hot and worked on shoving off his jacket and then his shirt, over his head, thankful Kyle was following in suit. As they pressed their bare chests together, his hand found the ginger's bulge, palming him through the thick fabric of his jeans. 

_"Shit,"_ Kyle breathed hotly, tilting his head back as Cartman moved away from his lips, kissing and sucking his way down pale, lightly freckled skin. He lingered on a patch of skin near Kyle's collarbone, nibbling gently before biting down, hard enough to bruise and to pull a loud gasp out of him. 

Cartman chuckled against his skin, loving the way he felt himself twitch, loving the way Kyle reacted. He wanted to hear more of him. Cartman wanted to listen to him scream and moan until the whole neighborhood knew that Kyle was _his._ No one else's. "You're going to be shouting my name," he purred lowly, "you're going to be telling _everyone_ who's fucking you, you dirty, dirty girl." He nuzzled the red mark he left on the ginger's neck, smirking. "You're going to be _mine."_

Kyle wasn't having it, Cartman realized, when he suddenly pushed him backward, forcing them both into sitting positions. Kyle glared at him before he moved his trembling hands to unbutton Cartman's fly. Almost impatiently, he pulled Cartman's boxers down and let his cock spring free, thick and angry. "Oh yeah?" he growled after a sharp intake of breath at the sight, though still annoyed with the cocky brunet. 

"O-Oh yeah," Cartman moaned, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted as Kyle grabbed and stroked him, swiping his thumb across the slit and using the pre-cum already dripping as lube. _"Kyle."_ Lazily, he jerked his hips upwards, trying to chase the friction Kyle's hand was providing him, but made sure to give Kyle attention, too. He pulled the ginger into his lap and quickly freed his dick, wrapping his own hand around Kyle. And for a second, he stopped, listening to their heavy breathing, and admired the utter _red_ that Kyle's dick was. He was, satisfyingly, a _fire crotch._

"What?" Kyle whimpered, looking uncharacteristically insecure at the abrupt pause, and it made Cartman melt. 

"You're a fucking fire crotch. That's amazing."

 _"Seriously?_ That's why you _stopped_?"

"I'm seriously, _Kahl,"_ Cartman said with a choked moan as Kyle stroked him again, trying to get them off this topic. He succeeded only a little as Cartman leaned forward, brushing their lips together as he whispered, "It's the most delicious thing I've ever seen, and you know how much I love food." He bit down onto Kyle's bottom lip, shutting him up before he could say anything else. Cartman's hand enveloped both of their dicks now, attempting to guide Kyle in a rhythm that started slow but grew steadily faster. 

It was noisy, messy, and hot, the sound of skin sliding against skin and the sound of their breath mingling, panting through sloppy, needy kisses. Cartman gripped Kyle's hair while Kyle held onto Cartman's back as they danced and jerked off together. It was _fucking_ but it _wasn't_ —Cartman had never felt so alive. If this is how jerking each other off felt, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to _taste_ and _take_ Kyle's sweet, sweet ass. But for now, the fear for the future, the ache in his soul and heart, the loss of his mother — it was all forgotten in Cartman's sheets, their bodies pressed together and sweating together, their bodies reaching climax together. They came at the same time, calling each other's name into the heat of the room. Cartman listened to the beautiful cry of Kyle saying his to the rooftop as if it was the last thing he would ever hear: _"_ Ah…! Eric! _Eric!"_

The sound of heavy panting filled the room and couldn't help but briefly bask in ecstasy of it all, of the orgasm, of Kyle right here next to him. He reached over and grabbed his abandoned shirt, using it to clean up the mess in between them and their hands, ignoring Kyle's complaints about how gross it was. 

"Seriously, Cartman? That's fucking disgusting," he was muttering, but Cartman could care less, tucking himself away as Kyle did the same, before tossing the cum-soaked shirt off the side of the bed. 

"You think I give a crap?" Cartman huffed, pulling the two of them down onto the bed and in a movement that obviously shocked Kyle. He wrapped his arms around Kyle and held him close and in a tight bear hug, feeling euphoric. "'Cause I don't, Jew. I'll wash it later. Let me enjoy this." His blissful afterglow cleared his mind and relaxed him, made him docile. And in Kyle's case, more cuddly. Because Cartman didn't let go, nuzzling his nose in Kyle's curly red hair and humming contently. His current happiness only grew when he felt Kyle sigh and comply, shifting to wrap his arms around Cartman too. With a sneaky glance downwards, Cartman saw that Kyle was smiling, a doe-like smile that he had never seen him wear. 

And it was all for him. 

They laid there together for a good while, the silence comfortable and pleasant, even after they shared some quite awkward feelings and some intense pleasure together. It was nice and previously thought to be impossible by the two of them, though the majority of things that had happened tonight had previously thought to be impossible. Both of them felt a lot better about the night, even if Cartman still had his doubts. But he knew that after all of that—the talking, the physicality between them—there was some real feeling there. Kyle wanted Cartman as much as Cartman wanted him. It wasn't pity, it wasn't anything except attraction and adoration from both ends, and that made Cartman _happy._ It was a start. Because his life sucked, _he_ sucked, but Kyle thought he didn't suck that bad. And that was better than nothing.

The doubts and insecurities lingered there despite it all, at the back of his mind, keeping even him from dozing off for a little while. Those thoughts eventually became so loud that the soothing motions Kyle was drawing into his side with his fingertips became background. But even still, he wasn't the first to speak. 

"Promise me something."

"Eh," Cartman murmured, moving so he could face Kyle, who's bright, albeit exhausted eyes were trained on him, "depends. Maybe."

Kyle's lips twitched, something that could've been a frown or even a smile of amusement when he caught the teasing lisp in Cartman's tone. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never do that shit again."

"Huh? You don't want me to get you off?" he practically whined, pouting, flipping the serious implications on its tail. "But _Kaaaahl,_ we could do so much more than that. I could suck your dick. I could eat you out. I could fuck your a—"

"That is _not_ ," Kyle said quickly, his face becoming as red as his fiery hair in seconds, "what I'm talking about."

"I promise."

Kyle blinked, a little surprised Cartman did that so easily. "But I..I want you to say it. All of it. Promise me that you'll never try and hurt yourself again." He reached out, cupping the brunet's cheek in his palm. It was soft, warm, _domestic,_ and Cartman closed his eyes. "Say it."

 _After this,_ Cartman thought, feeling his heart swell for the millionth time that night, _I don't think I could bear the thought of missing out on some good Kosher._ And of all of Kyle, mind and soul, as cheesy as it sounds. Though he would never admit any of that out loud. 

"I promise I'll never try and hurt myself. Ever again," Cartman grumbled stubbornly, opening his eyes to look at Kyle once more. He wanted to play it off again like all of it was nothing and he didn't need help, but seeing Kyle more relaxed at the voiced promise made him feel relieved. "You feel better, Daywalker?"

"Yeah, fatass," Kyle said quietly, offering the other teen the smallest smile, who returned it with a gentle kiss, "I do."

There would still be more talking, more figuring things out. With a relationship like this, one originally built off hate and balanced on a rope weaved with violence, attention, and affection, it would be a long road to something truly stable. Secrets from years ago would be spilled; some things would fall through. There would be fights, there would be sex, and there would be love. Things would have to change for the better or for the worse. For Kyle, he would have to make things better with Stan, explain all of this to him and Kenny, and accept the looks and the whispers that would come with the two of them holding hands down the hallway. He would hold his head proud, though, keeping Eric's hand tightly intertwined with his own. And for Cartman, he knew he would have to take the matters of the Cartman Residence into his own hands, along with Liane Cartman's passing and last wishes. He knew that he would also have to discover himself and understand that with someone at his side, with _Kyle_ at his side, things would change for the better. And even if Kyle decided to go off to college, they could figure something out. They could, and they would. They would figure everything out together, take those steps, no matter how big or small, hand in hand. 

Both of them knew the risks and consequences that came with their passion for one another. Kyle wanted to put in that effort to make Cartman a better person, and Cartman wanted to put in whatever it took to keep Kyle by his side. Cartman knew _they_ were far from perfect. But _Kyle Broflovski_ was _Eric Cartman's_ kind of perfect. And _Eric Cartman_ was _Kyle Broflovski's_ kind of perfect. 

With the ominous and very uncertain future at their doorstep, Kyle and Eric fell asleep in each other's arms, listening to the sound of their slowed, beating hearts. Tomorrow would be another stressful day, one full of emotional conversations, apologies, and explanations to a lot of different people. 

But they had each other. Through thick and thin, through every wondrous—or disastrous—change that came their way, they would have each other through it all. 


End file.
